


189 - Hidden Relationship

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 03:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17399525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “reader is friends w/ the guys & works for catb, & her & Van sort of start a secret relationship & try to keep it hidden from the guys. Maybe they tease one another in front of the guys to turn the other on secretly.”





	189 - Hidden Relationship

It was seeing Van in a hoodie that did it to you. Before, in the button ups and with the quiet listening he did during meetings, he was different. He was a guy in a band that was too cool for you to think about as more than a coworker. Then, he was all jokes and shower fresh scented and soft. He was sitting on the floor of the bus, in the room he and Larry cohabitated, looking up at you. 

"Why you looking at me like that?" he asked. 

"Like what?" 

You handed him the mug of tea you'd made him and passed the other over to Larry, who was stretched out on one of the tiny sofas. Van had dragged the thin foam mattress off his designated bunk into the room. He'd taken all the mattresses from the unclaimed bunks too. A small nest had been constructed, and watching him sit among the pillows and clothing spilling out of an open bag, you fell in love. It happened instantly and out of nowhere and hit you with such a force that you became breathless. 

"I don't know. Just lookin' at me funny," he replied, sipping the tea. 

"Sorry. Do you guys need anything else?" 

"Y/N, you ain't a P.A. anymore. Tour manager, yeah? Don't worry about making tea and checkin' on us. Go... manage," Larry said with a warm smile. You nodded and left the room under the weight of Van's gaze. 

You went back downstairs to sit at the 'kitchen' table and double check all the bookings and pretend to be calm. Bob came down and quietly made you a cup of tea. He sat opposite you at the table and uploaded photos from his camera to his laptop. His company was reassuring, even if he didn't mean it to be. 

A week later you were walking around backstage, getting ready to settle down in the green room for a few drinks with the guys after a show. 

"Oh, hey, Y/N. You seen Van? Might wanna send him to bed if he's gonna be in any condition to get up for that radio session," Joe said, crossing paths with you in the hall. You groaned and threw your head back dramatically. 

"Where's he at?"

"Green room. Good luck!"

Van was starfished on the floor, his face forming the happiest Cheshire cat grin you'd ever seen. You stood over him, one foot either side. 

"Y/N!" he beamed. "Whaaaaaaaaaaat's up, pretty lady?" 

"What's up with you? Gone a bit hard?" 

"Nah. Nah, I'm good. It's early!" he replied cheerily. The guys all laughed. 

"Yeah... hence, the concern. How would you feel about going to bed?" you asked. 

"With you? So inappropriate, Y/N, but you know what, I fancy you anyway, so let's go," Van said with a shrug. He rolled over and pushed himself up. Jumping off the ground, he stood wobbly in front of you.

"Wasn't that a secret, mate?" Bondy asked him. 

"What?" Van replied, already moving on from his previous thought process. 

"Come on," you ordered, and marched him outside and into the bus. He collapsed into his nest, stomach first. You brought him a bottle of water and left it by his head.

"Van, wanna take your boots off?" He nodded and tried to kick them off. You sighed and helped out. "Okay. You need anything else?"

"Are we not gonna-"

"Van," you warned. He laughed and sat up. 

"Cuddle goodnight?" 

You had your hands on your hips and watched him for any indicator of intent. "Fiiiine." You got on your knees and let him pull you into a bear hug. "Okay? We good?"

"Yep," he mumbled into the crook of your neck, before letting you go. 

Back out in empty parking lot, under a blanket of dulled stars, you caught your breath. He'd said it, but it probably didn't mean much. Van got crushes on everyone. He flirted with anything that moved. He was harmless sleaze and aimless charm. Regardless, I fancy you anyway, would echo in your mind for days. Bondy's affirmation of it though, that was the worrying thing. It was the painful hope and the potential for harm.

The next day rolled on and if Van was hungover, it didn't show. You caught him before it got to that point. It wasn't a fantastic way to start the tour, and you considered talking to him about it, but he saved you the trouble. You all had a couple hours off and travelled to the shopping district of the city you were in. You were out the front of a café drinking hazelnut hot chocolate and reading. Van came out of nowhere and plonked himself down in the seat opposite.

"So, um. Sorry. For last night. I'm really not like that, you know? Hadn't eaten much and it just went straight to my 'ead. I'm sorry," he said.

"Apology accepted,"

"So, we good?"

"Yeah. We're good. Have you had lunch? I'll get you something," you said, moving to stand. Van put his hand out.

"Sit. Fuck, Y/N. You're such a mum. No wonder they let you be a tour manager," he said with a laugh, leaving the table to go inside the café.

A short list of things that are painful: kidney stones, knowing you can't possibly see every doggo there is to see, hearing someone you're in love with referring to you as a mother figure.

Pretending to not watch Van eat over your book, time was crawling. Eventually, the others gravitated back to you.

"Should have known we'd find you sucking up to her," Larry said.

"Can't piss her off this early," he replied with a shrug.

…

Things settled down and four days flew by. Van was on his best behaviour and whenever he tucked himself into his nest or disappeared into a hotel room, he'd give you a grin, looking for approval. You'd roll your eyes and give him the thumbs up. When they had the next day off, and everyone was heading out to a bar, you had to literally give Van verbal permission to go too.

"Van… What are you still doing here?" He was sitting on one of the three beds in the hotel room you'd share with him and Larry. You threw your bag down and took your jacket off. "The others are downstairs. Hurry and you'll catch them,"

"Thought I'd stay in. Take it easy," he said with a shrug. He went back to his guitar.

"You can like, have fun, you know? Nothing on tomorrow,"

"Yeah. I know. But, I'm good. What are you doing?" he asked, watching you cross the room and turn the ensuite light on.

"Great minds, I guess. I just want sleep. Staying in too," you replied. He nodded. You took your makeup off and pulled a hoodie on. Crawling into one of the beds, you burrowed under.

"You going to bed now?!" Van laughed. "It's not even nine, babe!"

"Look, I'm too old for this rock star stuff, Van,"

"Ain't you younger than me? Come on. We'll have a drink at least," he said rolling off his bed and kneeling in front of the minibar. "You a vodka girl? Gin? Rum? Aaaaaaaand, I cannot read this label. Not in English." He looked up at you. You'd not moved. "Y/N!" Van walked over on his knees and rested his chin on the mattress, his face close to yours.

"You've got little green flecks in your eyes," you whispered. He smirked.

"What else do I got?"

"Freckles. Lots of freckles. And a little mark under your left eye. And your tongue looks like the emoji tongue."

He laughed and sat up. "Emoji tongue? Not heard that one. You gonna have a drink with me or what?" You nodded and followed him to the small hotel table.

"We can't mix spirits like this, Van,"

"Not with that attitude."

Attitude was something that neither you nor Van were short of. You emptied the minibar, then used your tour manager perk of having the second key card to everyone's rooms to raid theirs, bringing back the bounty to a very drunk Van. The room service fries and onion rings arrived shortly after, and you were living in a state of bliss. Sprawled out on a bed next to Van, you sang along to Sign of the Times as it played on MTV.

"Thought you hated One Direction," you said, laying on your side.

"Nah. 'Sides, this is that little Jagger one, yeah? All gone solo now," Van replied, knowing more about Harry Styles than you would have guessed.

"You're not really what I expected, you know?"

"Yeah? Is that good or bad?"

You thought for a second, watched as Van wriggled around a bit. "Neither. Both. What's that thing you guys say? Just one of them?" He laughed and nodded. "Yeah. Just one of them, then. You're just a person, you know."

Van sat up. "Just a person?"

You couldn't read his expression and were a second away from explaining. You'd meant it as a compliment, obviously. He wasn't a stereotype and he was more than just an idealistic hyper perfect version of himself as talked about by anyone that knew him. He was flawed and strange and good and you were hit with an overwhelming need for him to know that. Maybe it was the love that was driving that need. Maybe it was that you were equally as good, and simply wanted him to know his worth. It didn't matter why, it mattered that in the second from reading his face to trying to speak, he'd closed the gap between you and had pressed his lips to yours.

That was all it took. One kiss and everything changed. Van would sneak away with you whenever it wouldn't raise suspicion. You were already crashing in his little bus nest anyway, so it was easy to spoon together when the lights went off and everyone was asleep. If Larry knew anything was happening, he was king of pokerface.

Part of you worried that the secrecy was because Van didn't like you liked you liked him. Logically, it was because of the professional boundaries of your job and his, but the human mind isn't a logical thing. It's a catastrophising, paranoid mush of mixed emotions and nervous ticks. But then, you overheard reassurance.

You'd wrapped up everything you needed to do one night and headed back to the bus before the guy's had even finished on stage. You hijacked Van's nest and had a couple hours of undisturbed sleep before their chaos returned. Van and Larry found you quickly, and Van got under the blankets with a smoke. 

"Van, you'll set us on fire," you whispered, rolling away from him and pulling a pillow over your head. 

The bus quietened quickly, and you fell back asleep with the weight of Van next to you. Your dreams were cut short when the bus went over a bump, knocking your head into the wall. You moaned but stayed in bed. You listened for signs of life beyond the open door. Van was definitely asleep. Some of the others were talking to each other across their bunks.

"Don't ever really get used to it," Benji said.

"Maybe next time she can come?" Bondy replied. They were talking about Dani.

"That's a lot to expect. She can't just stop her life every time I tour, you know? Not fair,"

"Yeah, yeah. Speakin' of love though. Someone needs to sort Van out," Bondy said.

"Think he really likes her though. Proper like,"

"Don't matter. She's a good manager. He makes her feel weird, we'll lose her."

Before you could process, Larry spoke. Like you, he'd been quietly listening.

"Y/N?" he asked. "Are you awake?"

"Um… yeah," you whispered.

Bondy and Benji snorted.

"Fuuuuucckkkkkkkk," Benji said.

"Probably don't mention this to Van," Bondy told you.

"Mention what?" you asked. They laughed.

"Exactly! Don't need a singer with a broken heart.”

…

Everyone was exploring the new city, but you and Van met back on the bus when the guys walked off in different directions. You were wrapped around each other in the back.

"Want to hear something funny?" you asked him. He nodded and continued to run his fingers down your back. Your shirt was somewhere, thrown off as soon as you walked through the door. "Overheard Bond and Blake talking the other night. They are suspicious,"

"Of us?"

"Nope. Just you. They think you 'like' like me," you said, using your fingers to make inverted commas in the air.

"I do,"

"Do you?"

You sat up a bit to grab a hoodie that was on the sofa. Pulling it on, you realised it was one of Van's. You swam in it. He smirked and pulled you back into him. Van tied the strings of the hoodie together in a bow.

"Yes. Why'd I be doin' any of this if I didn't?" he asked.

"I don't know… Fun?"

He paused to look at you. "Is this your weirdo way of tryna' figure out what's happening? What I feel?" Yes. Obviously. You shrugged and tried to maintain a casual and calm composure. "I like you. Like like. It's hard but, 'cause you're doing a job and you don't wanna look bad and stuff. I get that. If this was just a normal situation, you know, it would be different,"

"Different how?"

He frowned, like he didn't understand how you didn't know that already. "Wouldn't be sneaking about all the time, right? Not ashamed of me are ya?" He started to tickle you, and you tried to kick him away but you had no chance. "Huh, Y/N? Are you just using me for sex? Huh?" You were in hysterics, and tears were about to run down your cheeks.

"Van! Stop!" you screamed. You begged until he got bored of the torture. When you were settled again, he kissed the top of your head.

"I like you, Y/N. Ready to go public whenever you are," he said. You snorted at the phrasing, but your little heart burst with happiness.

…

"Stop," you growled out. You could feel Van bouncing with the laughing he was trying to contain. You were sitting in the window seat of the taxi. He was in the middle, Bondy on his other side, and Larry was in the front. Van's arm was at his side, his hand running along the side of your thigh. It was unlikely anyone would notice the small touching, but it made you nervous nonetheless.

"It's up here, right Y/N?" Larry asked. On your way to a radio interview, you and Van had almost caused everyone to be late when you got side-tracked in the shower.

"Ah, yep," you replied, your voice coming out all squeaky. Bondy looked over.

"You okay?" he asked. You nodded and tried to smile. That also was off. "You're acting weird,"

"Nope. I'm good. All good."

He slowly nodded, glanced at Van, then went back to watching the city. You shot Van a look.

"What?" he said loudly. Another look, and he gently scratched at your leg again.

…

It was just past four in the morning. Everyone was asleep. You'd learnt to identify each of their little snores. Sitting at the bus kitchen table, you stared at the laptop screen. There was literally nothing left for you to do. Every item on the to-do list ticked. Anything that could be double checked had already been triple checked. So, you stared. Footsteps coming down the bus stairs from the bunks above, you looked up and watched Van approach. He stood next to you, sleepy and yawning.

"What doing?" he asked. You smiled at his dropped words and messy hair.

"What doing is not sleeping. What are you doing up?"

"Woke up and you weren't there. You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just can't sleep. Go back to bed. I'm fine," you said, pushing him gently away from you.

"Nah. I'll stay up with you," he replied moving over to the small bar fridge. He picked up a carton of milk and smelt it, made a face, then tried the next. When he found one that was somewhat still okay, he drank from it.

"Exactly. We shouldn't stay up,"

"It's pretty much morning, Y/N. Might as well quit wastin' time counting sheep," he said. He was back standing next to you.

"What am I meant to do then?" you asked, rubbing your eyes with your hands. You yawned, and when you look back up at him, he was already on his knees, crawling under the table. It didn't click. "Van? What are you-" Then it did. He was kissing your thighs. You'd taken to wearing the guys' t-shirts to bed. They were too big for you, so covered enough that you could get away with it. You were in one of Larry's, and Van was pushing it up. "Van. No. What if someone wakes up?"

"They won't," he mumbled.

You were ready to give in. The tickle of Van's hair against the skin of your inner thighs did things to you that you couldn't explain. The thump of someone jumping from their bunk upstairs startled you, and in your movement, Van moved quickly, hitting his head on the bottom of the table. He swore and then laughed. He crawled out and quickly sat in the chair opposite you.

Bob came down the stairs. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked at you, then Van.

"What?" Van asked defensively.

"Huh?" Bob whispered, then shuffled to get a bottle of water. You sat silently, looking at Van. He was grinning. Bob moved back to the stairs with his bottle of water. Time felt slow. He looked over his shoulder at you both. "Don't worry. Nobody knows what you're up to but me. I won't tell." He disappeared.

"Fuckin' Sideshow," Van whispered under his breath, shaking his head.

…

On the last night of the tour, after their final Tyrants mic drop, you and Van quickly escaped and literally ran for as many blocks as you could. You were out of breath way before him. "Y/N! Come on!" he called. You waved and pointed at yourself to indicate that you were dying. He jogged back, told you to get on, and started to speed walk for a couple more blocks with you on his back.

Stopped at a 24/7 convenient store, you walked the aisles holding hands and looking at all the stuff you couldn't buy back home. 

"So… When we get home… Like, as soon as the plane lands and you're done bossing us about, we're gonna proper date, right?" he asked as you picked out some candy.

"What's involved in proper dating?"

"Uh… Meeting my parents. And my dog. Dates… in public… Sex, but louder," Van answered, smirking.

"So romantic,"

"Is that a yes?"

You looked up at him, handing him your selections. "Of course? What did you think I was gonna say? Oh my god, Van. Is this your weirdo way of trying to work out if I like you? If we're a thing?"

"Shut the fuck up, Y/N," he said, turning away to walk to the counter. He looked back over at you, smiling. He gave you a little wink and you wondered if it was him in a hoodie that did it to you, what about you did it to him.


End file.
